Lydia
“I really do love the rough version of the door cover,” I gushed. “Like the lipstick kiss on the wood was perfect and I just thought it was a lot more fun than the computer with the pink sign.”
Jordan nodded and he pulled up the image on screen for everyone to see. There were four of us on the video call with Jordan sharing a view of his computer screen. My team was there to help scramble together the last of my responsibilities for the book and more importantly, get me ready for the interview, the cover reveal, and a variety of press events.
I had submitted the last of the edits, marked off the dates on my calendar, and after this meeting, all I had to do was pack my suitcase. Jordan wasn’t pleased about me pissing off to Aspen for the holidays or that we would have limited contact while I was out of state. However, I was not giving up this Christmas vacation, not for anything in this world.
The weeks had ticked by slowly with little sleep and what felt like a growing pile of things to do. Going to Aspen had felt like a crushing weight and I fought it for all I was worth, but now, having given in at the last moment, I was fucking thankful to be getting away. And what better way was there to celebrate finishing this project in record time?
“I will let Candace know that the door cover is preferred,” Jordan mused as he tapped away at his computer, eyes narrowed at the screen. “And have you spoken to Prisha yet?”
“I did, she and I have gone over the questions from the Kelley and Kim production team. It seemed a little lacking though, like there weren’t as many as questions I thought there would be and they seemed a little softball.” I paused and sipped at my hot chocolate. “Not that I didn’t enjoy that, the easier the better honestly.”
“Well, that’s really what this meeting was also about,” Jordan explained with a very broad, very unsettling smile. “Because Black Book thought that an interview with just you wouldn’t be quite enough. I mean, yes, you have a huge draw – you’re young, sexy, you’ve got a past that makes people more interested in you, but this book isn’t about your life story, it’s about an affair that brought down two major careers and catapulted you into the spotlight.”
I didn’t like where any of this was going, I didn’t like feeling out of the loop. What more could they expect of me? This book was getting rushed through the pipeline, my fingers hurt and I was having stress-induced nightmares about the launch coinciding with my birth. I really could not take anything else at this point.
Jordan seemed to take my silence as encouragement and continued, “Let’s Talk with Kelley and Kim wants to do the interview with you, your fiancé Patrick Rosing, and your former boss Jonathan Harris-Bower, on the first Saturday after New Year’s.”
My soul left my body. I was standing in that fucking kitchen facing down Maritza half-naked all over again, I was watching myself make every horrible embarrassing moment happen again and again and I would have done it all in a heartbeat instead of this.
An interview with the three of us?
“You’re fucking kidding, right?”
The graphic designer that I couldn’t remember the name of broke out laughing and was quick to mute her microphone when Jordan didn’t look impressed. He didn’t seem happy with either of us.
“It’s on the same date, that hasn’t changed,” he assured me. “It’s just adding them into the mix so that they can answer questions that readers are going to have that you can’t answer.”
“Sure, at the last possible minute and you’re telling me this right before I leave New York and can’t fight you about it, it’s definitely the same thing as the original interview.”
“There’s nothing to fight about!” Jordan argued. “You’re on good terms with Jonathan, that’s what you told me and Candace. It’ll only be thirty minutes and this is going to draw in so much more interest—”
“Jordan.”
“Yes?”
“You couldn’t at least have asked me first?”
“No, that’s really not how this works, Lydia.” He shook his head and told the others that they were free to go while we got into it. The other two logged off quickly, probably eager to not have to watch us fight.
I sunk back in Jon’s chair pettily. I felt like a brat but I just did not need and or want this dumped in my lap. We were a week to Christmas, this interview was around the corner, my wedding was around the corner and now I was going to spend god knows how long stressing about a potentially horrible time with both men on a morning talk show.
“Lydia?”
I pressed my hand to my eyes and nodded sadly. “I’m still here.”
“Candace has already personally reached out to Jonathan—”
“It’s Jon,” I interrupted. “Not Jonathan, he goes by Jon and his last name isn’t hyphenated, it’s just Harris now.”
Jordan huffed. “Noted. Anyway, we’re hoping that you might be able to pull some strings to get him to say yes.”
When I looked back at the computer screen, Jordan was staringly at me impassively and I knew that this wasn’t a request. This is it, I thought tiredly, the last hurtle and then I never have to worry about this book again. I would come back to writing when it was less hectic and I had more control over the narrative.
“What happens if I can’t get him to do it?” I asked flatly.
“We would have to revaluate the release date and slow down production for now. We’re rushing this through the line, this window isn’t going to be open long and it’s already difficult to sell these types of stories as it is.”
Fuck. Really? This was the kind of game they wanted to play? I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling my bump and the way it sent flutters through me.
There were more important things I could spend my days worrying about, I wasn’t letting Black Book bully me anymore when this shit was done.
“Whatever,” I mumbled with a roll of my eyes. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t have you guys dumping this stressful shit on me anymore.”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t,” I interrupted. “I’m four months pregnant, Jordan, I really can’t be dealing with this anymore. And I have to go, I’ll call you when I get back.”
He gaped at me and didn’t say anything else as I disconnected the Skype call. I was being rude, childish even, and I knew I was making a mistake hanging up on him like this, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.
The desktop stared back at me with the email from him, Prisha, and Candace, guiding me through a list of upcoming press events. Another email sat open next to it from Pat’s mom, Lucy, reminding me that I needed to let her know when I was available to meet the planner next and oh yeah, could I spare a moment to look at dresses for a dinner at the Swan Society?
I was sure that if I refreshed my inbox I would have another from the wedding planner about the venue now that we had finally settled on it. I felt like I had a million people tugging me in every direction and not a single one of them was willing to share with the other people that needed me.
Throwing my head back, I covered my face and groaned loudly. Take me back to the hot beach and too much tequila. Naked, obviously, and this time just being lavished with attention left, right, and center.
A knock sounded at the door. “I’m hearing sex noises and feeling left out.”
“That’s just me getting worked over by my publisher,” I mumbled, spinning the chair around to face Jon. “Shafted, if you will.”
“I will, but I can’t while you’re sitting in my chair.”
I scoffed and shot him a quick smile. Patrick was out with the guy he wanted to get a job from, Edward or something, and had left Jon and I to our own devices for most of the day. He did that pretty often when he was going out to meet his friend, it kind of felt like he was going on a date with him but I think I was reading into that since he had that sort of relationship with Jon.
It was actually a little weird to have Jon home during the day right now since both of them had business with this Edward guy, but it was nice not to be on my own for dinner again tonight.
“You’re looking extra pouty today, dove. What’s going on?”
I shrugged and pulled my bare feet up onto his chair. “Has the PR team called you yet?”
He crossed his arms and propped himself against the doorjamb. “They did, a few minutes before your meeting started. I said I would get back to them after talking to you first.”
“I was going to say that I can’t believe they dropped that on me today of all days, but I’m actually more surprised that you answered an unknown number.”
“I don’t have a secretary to do that anymore, I have to do it myself now,” he teased. “Trust me, I don’t enjoy answering my own phone.”
“For the sake of our relationship, I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just call me your secretary.”
“You were a lovely secretary. No-one else bends over backwards like you do.”
I let my legs down and leaned forward as I pointed at him. “Executive assistant. I wasn’t managing a front desk; I was managing a grown man.”
“Which was quite a feat considering you can barely manage yourself.”
I balked indignantly at him and crossed both my arms and legs, mimicking his pose with a pouty frown. “I miss Pat.”
Jon’s mouth twitched at the corner and he closed the distance between us with three swift steps. He loomed over me with an expression of mixed amusement and irritation., his glacial eyes were dark as they assessed me from his vantage point.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I. Miss. Patrick.”
“Now see, I gave you the chance to apologize and you’re just acting like a brat for no reason.” He reached for my hair and twisted it around his fist, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “You know he left me with the keys to your harness.”
Because he didn’t know when he would be back. That’s what Pat told me anyway, but I think both of us understood that in our hierarchy Jon was in charge when no one else was home. Pat was technically the only one with a key, but that key could be handed off at any moment.
But I knew Jon was baiting me, I knew he was playing into my attitude because he wanted just as badly to put me across this desk. I was dying for one of them to take me down into subspace, to make me feel small and used and content and not have a single worry in the world.
“Didn’t he also leave strict instructions to go easy on me?
He twisted my hair while simultaneously pulling me forward, up out of my seat toward him. “We’ve already established that I don’t need to follow his rules, Lydia.”
My hands pressed against his chest as we stood there in relative silence. It was a bit of game now, to see what boundaries Jon would and would not push or even blatantly bulldoze right over. Patrick was rarely upset about it, he seemed more turned on by the aspect of reminding me who my Master was and why he owned me. But a consistent problem that he was having lately was that he couldn’t stay in Dom mode while we were together. He didn’t even seem to notice it, if anything Pat seemed to think he was being more aggressive than usual while to me it just seemed softer and softer.
He could with Jon though, I’d walked in on the two of them in the shower again recently and immediately became jealous of how roughly he handled the older man. But he wasn’t able to do the same thing with me.
Jon, on the other hand, had no issue with showing me that whether he was “just” my Daddy or not, he was going to use me like a cheap whore. I needed that, I needed so badly to just let go and have nothing else to worry about other than making my doms feel good. Why couldn’t he just drop everything and do that now? Why did I feel like I had to schedule an appointment for that type of treatment?
My throat tightened while I stared up at Jon and I could feel my eyes starting to water. I must have looked absolutely insane to be tearing up at the mere thought of rough sex, but suddenly I felt like I was being neglected and I wanted Jon to see that.
Jon chuckled and let go of my hair, instead cupping my chin and giving me a chaste kiss.
“There she is,” he teased, arms looping around my waist. “I was wondering what happened to my cry baby.”
“I just have so much to do!” I cried, burying my face into his shoulder. “I hate it, I just want to have fun with the wedding and forget about this whole thing! Jordan is being mean to me and Pat can barely bring himself to touch me!”
“Dove, you’ve swatted at us for trying to hold your hand this week. You can’t fault the poor man for not knowing whether you’re coming or going.”
“Well, I’m not coming,” I complained bitterly. “I couldn’t possibly be doing that when the one person that has control over the vibrators remote never turns it on.”
“You told him not to, you told him you weren’t in the mood, and he fucked you this morning, don’t think I didn’t hear you two going at it in the shower.”
I groaned and shook my head. “He didn’t let me finish and I didn’t mean all the time when I said no.”
“We’re not mind readers, and we’re trying our best.” He paused and pulled back enough to look down at me. “If you want something then use your words and ask. It’s not like we have a record of telling you no.”
I rolled my eyes and took a step back. “I don’t want to have to do that all the time, it would be easier if you guys were mind readers.”
“Don’t do that,” he scolded. “Don’t pull away from me.”
Jon’s hands rested on my hips, but I could feel the way his fingers pressed into the material of my sheath dress, rooting me to the spot and threatening to pull me closer. I let my hand trail up his arm, brushing over the sleeve of his sweater and coming to rest just above his elbow. He needed to stop wearing so much, if I had to wear dresses because of my harness and them wanting easy access then they could at least go around topless at home.
“Tell me what’s bothering you, dove,” he whispered, brushing my hair back over my shoulder. “You’re done the hard part, you really can do the fun stuff now and not worry about anything else.”
I shrugged and leaned into him, looping my arms loosely around his waist and pressing my face into his chest. He smelled like Patrick today; like something warm and smoky instead of his usual blend of wood and spice. It was a little weird, but at the same time it didn’t stop me from breathing in deeply and holding him just a little bit tighter.
“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” I mumbled against him. “There’s so much on my blog and I don’t really think I’m a private person, but… I don’t know, it’s different somehow.”
“Well, it’s a little late to change your mind,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m so happy for you, and you know Patrick is too.”
I nodded. “Promise you won’t hate me when everyone is talking about us again.”
He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back. “I’m really not worried about people gossiping about my sex life, not when it’s about whether or not I’m fucking the hot intern.”
I groaned and smacked his chest as I pushed away from him. “I wasn’t an intern either!”
Jon’s mouth twitched at the corner as he caught and held my balled-up fist against him. “I never said you were.”
My eyes narrowed and I pursed my lips dramatically. I damn well have better been the first and only assistant that either man put over their desk. There was no rhyme or reason to be jealous but come on! I didn’t want to be assistant number three, the one that stuck around because she got knocked up.
Jon wagged his eyebrows and sidestepped around me to take a seat in his chair. He lounged there for a moment and just watched me while I leaned back on the desk and toyed with the heavy fountain pen. After a minute, I hoisted myself up onto the desk and crossed my knees lazily. I felt like I couldn’t leave without being dismissed but he didn’t seem keen on saying anything else.
My foot bounced lazily while I sat there until Jon reached out and skimmed his fingers up along my calf to my knee and still further up my thigh.
“You aren’t supposed to cross your knees while pregnant,” he mused.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s an old wives’ tale, there’s nothing wrong with crossing your legs.”
“It’s not an old wives’ tale, it can lead to blood clots.”
Oh. How was I supposed to know that? “No one told me that.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.” He tapped my knee to emphasize his point. “Now uncross.”
With a huff, I uncrossed my knees but kept my legs tight together. This position with him might have been oddly familiar, but I expected him to work for it if he really wanted to take full advantage of it.
His eyes flicked up at me, suddenly he scooched his chair closer and laid his hands facedown on the desk. I could feel his thumbs hooking under the hem of my dress, brushing my thighs and sending little sparks of warmth over my skin.
It was amazing how desensitized I was to the harness under my dress, how on any given day I could forget about it completely but the smallest thing could give me a sudden wake up call. The sensation of Jon not quite touching me while his icy gaze pinned me to the spot was a harsh reminder of the vibrator currently off but still snugly pressed against my clit.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, not breaking eye contact. “Now. All the way.”
Slowly, I let my legs fall open. He pushed my skirt up, letting me spread my legs further until my knee bumped the keyboard. I fought to slow my breathing as he leaned forward and kissed my knee, his stubble tickled my skin and made my heart race with every brush of his mouth working towards my sex.
I braced my hands back on the edge of the desk and leaned back to try and give him easier access, though I knew that he wasn’t going to be in any hurry.
“I’m sure you still taste like him.” Jon paused to run his palms over the inside of my thighs. “Did he use you well this morning?”
He did. I lolled my head back and closed my eyes as I thought about Patrick fucking me up against the shower wall. I could still feel his mouth on my collarbone and his hand gripping my ass while he fucked me slowly, taking his time and making sure I could feel every motion, every touch and every kiss in startling clarity.
I nodded and pulled my skirt up a bit more, giving him a better view. “He promised to do it again when he got home too.”
Jon smirked. “So I’ve heard.”
He stood suddenly and pressed himself between my legs. I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck just as he leaned down to kiss me hard.
My fingers entwined with his hair, twisting and tugging at it while his tongue swept my mouth. Patrick’s hair was long, a hell of a lot longer than Jon’s, and I found myself missing the other man’s long curls as I pulled at it.
He jerked my hair-tie out in return and twisted my hair around his fist to force my head back and kiss the underside of my jaw. I gasped at the sparks of pain and raked my nails over his sweater in surprise, my back arching and pressing my tits to his chest.
I slipped a free hand down between us and groped for his belt before pulling at it desperately. It came loose easier than the button on his jeans.
“You taste like wine,” I mumbled against his lips. My favourite pinot grigio. That bastard.
He grinned and kissed my cheek. “Jealous?”
“Yes!” I complained loudly. “I can’t believe you were into my wine.”
“I had to get you going somehow,” he teased. “And for what it’s worth, it was only one glass.”
As if that made it any better, it wasn’t like it would still be good in five months. “Just fuck me,” I pleaded. “Stop bragging about how much you get to drink while I have to be sober.”
“And where’s the fun in that? I don’t want to just fuck you, I want to take my time with it, I want to hear you beg for me.”
I shivered unintentionally and let my arms loop up under his as I hugged him tightly. I wanted that too, but I felt like he wasn’t going to give it to me without a fight.
“Dove, talk to me, tell me what you want.” His hand ran through my hair and I felt his nose press against the top of my head. “You’re all over the place lately, it would be helpful to get a roadmap to help navigate this.”
Hurt me. I hid my face against his shoulder and dug my nails into his back, trying to stop myself from crying in frustration. I knew I was all over the place, I knew I was acting like a freak half the time and a complete psycho the rest of it. I mean, I was fucking crying because I wanted them to beat my ass.
I didn’t need gentle or soft or careful and I hated that as the men had opened up, their behaviour and their dominant demeanour had softened to barely a veneer of their past selves.
If they just let go, stopped worrying so much, maybe I could relax too.
“I hate this,” I whispered against him. “I just want to feel good and I don’t know how to ask for what I want.”
Jon pulled away from me and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt my chin up. His gaze held mine and I prayed that my makeup didn’t look too smeared now. “Why can’t you ask for what you want? What’s wrong?”
While blotting my eyes, I shook my head. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s not true; I know you can discern what you want – you’re smart. Use your words and stop pouting.”
He wasn’t unkind when he said that but my hackles were raised at his tone.
I felt like a freak asking for this; I’d never been the one to initiate rough play or particularly focus on it outside of some flogging, but I couldn’t get the idea of them hurting me out of my mind.
I wanted them to hold me down against the mattress and fuck me until I couldn’t see straight, to feel their hands on my throat and making it harder to breathe, to feel the sting of their palms against my tits, my pussy, and worst of all – my face. I didn’t want to walk around with a bruise for the world to see and ask questions about, but I wanted to feel that pain, that tingle, that magic that I only ever felt with them.
I stared down at my lap, noting the way Jon’s pants were mostly undone and the way the skirt of my dress was bunched up. “I want you and Master to hurt me,” I said quietly. “And I feel bad about asking for it.”
We were inches apart but it could have been miles for how isolated I felt while sitting there.
My sex life before Jon and Pat was nonexistent. I waited long periods of time after entering relationships before becoming intimate and I could count all the guys I had been with on one hand. This didn’t affect me much anymore, but now I could see why Jon had wanted to chill out on the BDSM after finding out more about my sexual history. I was still finding my voice when it came to sex, but the guys were finetuning their fetishes.
I didn’t feel comfortable asking for what I wanted when it was something like this, when I had absolutely no idea of what the far end of the spectrum looked like. I trusted them to introduce me to what I would like and so far, I’d been lucky to like everything.
I expected him to sigh, to be frustrated but he just scoffed. “You don’t feel bad about asking for anything else, why should sexual favours be any different?”
“I don’t know, it just is.”
“I ask for what I want,” he continued, as if not listening to me. “I don’t wait for it; I just ask because lord only knows when I’ll have the next chance to ask nicely.”
“You take it,” I corrected. “I’ve never seen you ask for anything.”
“I’ve asked you to suck my cock, to spread yourself open for me in front of a room full of people, I’ve asked Patrick to fuck me without anything else. I might demand or instruct more than I ask, but I always use my words.”
When he put it that way, it almost made sense. “Okay, well I asked, now I’m waiting.”
“You want me to hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not very specific.”
I groaned loudly and gave him a hard shove so that I could get down off my perch. “You’re such a dick for no reason, that’s supposed to be Patrick’s job.”
I tossed my hair over my shoulder and headed towards the hallway, my heels rang loudly around the room with each step until he jerked me to a sudden stop. All at once, Jon grabbed and held me against him with one hand over my mouth while the other pulled my dress back up.
“Hold still,” he snarled. “Stop squirming.”
I twisted in his grip while he worked the clasp of my dress open and tugged it up over my head, only to toss it across the room. Before it even hit the ground he had my wrist in a tight hold and twisted it behind my back, it wasn’t quite painful, but the shooting pain meant that I was forced to submit to his urging and kneel down the floor in front of him.
My heart was racing and everywhere he touched me felt like it was on fire. All at once a switch had flipped, I’d pushed the right buttons.
“Move,” he ordered. “Go down the hall to the playroom.”
I was smart enough not to ask if I was crawling, I knew that would have me literally kissing his feet if I did. Instead, I let him step around me and lead us one door down to the playroom. He mercifully let me kick my heels off but that didn’t make the hardwood any easier on my poor knees. My hair dangled barely an inch off the floor, what he didn’t have grasped in his fist anyway, as if it was a leash.
The door to the playroom swung open and I breathed in deeply with my eyes closed, letting my senses fill with the scent of leather and steel and the orange scented cleaner.
I took my spot in the centre of the room, kneeling there patiently with my hands folded in my lap and my head tilted down respectfully while I waited. The chain of my harness was pulled taught against my back, I could feel it eat into my skin with its harsh reminder that this was my place, the only time I ever felt truly comfortable.
I listened to the sound of Daddy walking over to the sound system, timing my breathing to every other step while I settled into my role and he picked a song.
The sound of someone plucking a guitar came first and instantly I recognized the song as something he often used to play in his office; the male singer crooned about having someone where he wanted them over a slow beat that made me close my eyes. I was too distracted to notice him come back over to me until I felt the smooth leather of a strap glide along my jaw, urging me to look up at him.
Daddy smirked. “Look at your eyes,” he said with a chuckle. “Like saucers – they’re massive.”
I was high on him, what else could I say? I just smiled and cocked my head to the side sweetly.
“Lay down on the floor like this—” he broke off and guided me into position, laying my arms flat down over my head while my knees were still tucked under me, a prayer-esque position.
I expected him to use his hand first and that’s what I was prepared for, but the feeling of the strap suddenly hitting hard across my ass made me yelp and squirm forward. The leather was deceptively soft, no one would know that there was a stiff strip of bamboo inside to give it the structure and bite that it did.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped out immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Be quiet,” Daddy snapped irritably. “Now sit up.”
I scrambled back into position as quickly as possible only for him to grab my hair and jerk my head back. All I could see was the Arctic blue of his eyes and the heart-melting tilt of his lips, I barely even noticed the grip he had on my jaw. His other hand dipped into his jeans and pulled his hard cock out, it bobbed in front of me lewdly as he stroked it in his fit.
I sat there obediently, not looking away from his face despite his hand being a blur of motion in the corner of my eye. The strap was forgotten; tucked into the edge of his jeans haphazardly while he worked himself over, and while I was thrilled that he had me in this position, I was still disappointed that he had stopped it only after a single strike.
“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarled, eyes flashing. “Now.”
I obeyed happily, feeling the heat in my abdomen grow hotter with the sound of his gravelly voice. The head of his cock bumped my lip again and again, leaking precum onto my tongue in a salty stream that I swallowed down greedily. I needed more, I wanted to taste him fully. I stared up at him, batting my eyes and hoping for him to come in my mouth. He moaned and released my jaw, reaching instead to grip my hair.
In one swift motion, Daddy pushed his cock into my mouth fully. I gagged at the intrusion but fought to relax my throat for him all the same.
He didn’t let up, fucking my mouth faster and more roughly. My hands came up to rest on his hips, my warning to him that he was approaching my limit without actually stopping him. This didn’t make Daddy stop right away but he slowed down and made his thrusts shallower while I caught my breath.
I could feel my smeared lipstick getting sticky and mixing with my spit and his precum, and I could taste the salt from my tears and his sweat better than anything else. The combination of everything made me moan and swirl my tongue around the head of his cock in an attempt to make him moan, to squirm, to show me that I was affecting him.
Daddy groaned in response and wiped his cock over my lips as he pulled out reluctantly. Before I could do anything else, two of his fingers were pressing into my mouth and I was fighting the urge to cough or gag while he worked them roughly in and out.
“You don’t deserve my cock in your throat,” he taunted. “Just my fingers and nothing else. Right, slut?”
I choked around his digits and blinked the tears out of my eyes as I tried to meet his gaze. He shoved in deeper and held them there, ignoring my gagging. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulled out and slapped me hard, my spit coated my cheek on the impact and even my tits as I started to cough again. The sting of his strike didn’t hurt nearly as much as it could, but I still felt the warmth of it afterward. Or maybe that was a combination of my spit and his fluid. I wasn’t sure, but I felt peaceful inside, whole, and I wished he would hit me again to bring me further into subspace.
I was in a freefall, it made me lean into his palm and close my eyes as I nuzzled against him. The tingling in my cheek spread across my body while we stayed like that and was only amplified by Daddy gently wiping my cheek and leaning down to kiss the top of my head. He said something that I didn’t quite hear and all at once he forced one of the dildo gags into my mouth and fastened it behind my head. It was smaller than the one I normally used; this one wouldn’t cut off my breathing like the other did which meant it was safe to use while I was pregnant.
He shoved me back to the floor in one swift motion and I instantly resumed my position for him. This time he used his hand, giving my ass a hard swat on each cheek with a firm warning to stop moving around so much.
If a human could purr, then I was fucking purring. I couldn’t stop the little moans that kept bubbling up or the way my toes curled when he jerked on my hair with one hand and laid into my ass with the other. My nails ate into my palms and I tried to ignore the drool that pooled onto the floor where I was resting my cheek. Daddy laughed when he looked down and saw how I was holding up with a tenderized ass and tears streaming down my face.
He stood up straight and reached for something in his pocket, I could barely focus on him before the vibrator came to life and I jerked in surprise, almost coming from the sudden jolt. My back arched and I sucked hard on the toy in my mouth while he upped the frequency. I could feel him nudging my arm with his foot, trying to remind me to control myself but I was too far gone, the muscles in my abdomen tightened and I squeezed my eyes shut while I came.
I shivered and grabbed at the toy frantically, trying to pull it away from my clit before I became over-sensitized. It didn’t work, and all too quickly the warmth that had spread over my body turned to ice water and I gasped around the gag.
His laughter brought me somewhat back to reality but it was when his hand wrapped around my upper arm and hauled me to my feet that the room finally stopped spinning. He stopped the toy and led me over to the bench, steadying me when I stumbled and pausing to kiss my shoulder before helping me up onto the mechanical seat.
They usually bent me over the leather bench, but today Daddy had me sit close to the end and lay down the length of it. There were ledges on either side that he propped my feet on and cuffs that he attached to my ankles, keeping me in place. He trailed his palm up the length of my body as he came up to restrain my arms too in the same manner.
I watched him move around me lazily, pausing to kiss and nip at my tits, gently stroking my stomach, and finally coming up to run his hands through my hair while it dangled off the edge.
“You’re so much easier to put up with when your mouth is full,” he remarked as he pulled off his sweater. “Less mouthy, less argumentative, less bratty. The perfect little submissive.”
Despite feeling like I was suspended in space and struggling to make sense of his words, I wished I could spit this gag out and call him a prick to his smug face. That would probably earn me another slap. Yes please! I squirmed as much as I could, wiggling my hips to try and catch his attention.
He grinned down at me and reached to disconnect my harness, slowly moving the soft fabric band of Patrick’s cuff over the magnetic clasps one by one. They came open with an audible pop followed closely by the tension in the harness loosening. Each clip came free easily with the exception of my collar, one of the only things my Master could solely control and not Daddy.
He discarded the pieces onto the floor one at a time until all that was left was my chastity belt. My heart pounded in my ears as he stripped me, but Daddy didn’t seem to notice, not even when I strived to arch myself against his touch.
“I was going to let your Master do the honors, but I don’t think I can wait that long,” Daddy remarked as he tugged at my waistband.
I shook my head fiercely. Don’t make me wait! He laughed and finished unclipping it. It was a relief to have the pressure off my clit and the metal chain no longer dig into my hips, but I was more excited that I was completely exposed to him now.
Daddy stroked the length of my slit, lingering just long enough to make me shudder with need and try to press myself back on his hand. He gave my pussy a sudden sharp slap that made me cry out around the gag and jerk in surprise before I could catch myself.
“Calm down,” he soothed. “I’m going to get you the mask.”
As if that would calm me down. I couldn’t say anything though, so I laid there and listened to the music while he left me tied to the bench. It was getting easier not to overstimulate myself and to maintain some sort of control too, and I was sure both men could see the change in me. I would have to mention it when my mouth wasn’t full.
Daddy’s loud footsteps brought me back into the playroom and onto the bench. I turned to see him holding the black silk mask in one hand and a flogger in the other. I gazed up at him questioningly but he just smiled and covered my eyes with the soft fabric. I wanted to tell him that this made me nervous to be completely held down and unable to talk and see, but that would also mean losing out on the thrill that vibrated through my body.
I shuddered as he trailed the flogger over my stomach, the thin suede straps drifted over my sides so lightly that I squirmed uncontrollably from the way it tickled.
“I’ll avoid the sensitive areas,” Daddy said, dragging the flogger over my tits. He paused and pressed his hand to my stomach. “Do you trust me?”
How could I not? I nodded.
“Good.”
Instantly he brought the flogger down hard across my chest; it bit sharply into my skin and made me cry out around my gag. My body flamed in response, I barely had a second to enjoy the warmth before he brought it down again, this time across my thigh.
Each strike changed position, working from one leg to the other and up again at my tits. I sucked mindlessly on the toy in my mouth until he came to an unexpected stop. My body froze, I knew that he was about to do something but couldn’t think of what. The sound of the strap hitting skin registered in my brain before the throbbing pain between my legs.
I desperately tried to close my legs but it didn’t help, the pain from the strap radiated from my pussy in waves like a tsunami. My eyes burned with another flood of tears that soaked into the mask as quickly as the welled up.
“You said you wanted us to hurt you and here you are, crying like I didn’t give you exactly what you wanted.” His hands rubbed over my knees and pushed them apart again, I hoped he couldn’t hear me whimper. “You’ll have to thank Jordan for that next time you see him.”
I didn’t hear Daddy move around the bed, but suddenly I felt his hands on my shoulders, sliding backward up my throat and cupping my cheeks, urging me to look back despite not being able to see. The air shifted and next thing I knew, his mouth was brushing my ear, sucking at my earlobe and making my toes curl.
Hot and cold, soft and cruel, Daddy could make my head spin when he wanted to.
But the voice next to my ear wasn’t his. “I think I gave you some very clear instructions on who was allowed to take your harness off.”
Ohmigod. My Master’s voice was low and husky, there was a dangerous edge to it that sent a chill down my spine. I wished I could apologize for not listening to him.
Master continued as if not noticing my response. “You’re covered in welts, kitten, and you’re shivering. Daddy told me you liked it when he slapped you.”
He did? When? I tried to think back over the afternoon, but I quickly realized I wasn’t holding myself together nearly as well as I thought, I could barely remember him tying me to this bench, let alone when he might have stopped to talk to my Master.
I lolled my head back on his shoulder and nuzzled into him while Daddy moved in between my thighs. Master brushed my hair back and resumed his assault on my throat, sucking hard at the underside of my jaw while his fingers toyed with my nipples.
“Daddy’s going to fuck your cunt now,” he whispered. “And after he comes he’s going to get down on his knees and lick you clean for me.”
I was going to be here all day. If I wasn’t already pregnant, I certainly would have ended up that way.
Daddy chuckled at my Master’s words and groped between my legs, swearing the wetness from my pussy over his hand and, I assumed, his cock. He didn’t want to wait any longer because in the next instant, he was sheathed inside me to the hilt. My back arched, pressing my tits against master’s palms and stars blossomed behind my eyes.
His cock stretched my pussy in familiar way but I couldn’t help the way it made my heart stutter. The two of them pawed at me endlessly; my hips, my tits, my sore clit, they worked to make me writhe between them and fuck back at Daddy desperately. I hadn’t even noticed how badly I needed to come, the way every muscle in my abdomen was taut and begging for release.
I was completely lost to them and with every thrust of Daddy’s cock against my g-spot, slamming into my well used cunt and reminding me that no matter how gentle they were from time to time, this was where we started and this was where I belonged.
My nails dug into my palm at the same time as my heels pushed against the ledge of the bench, pushing my hips up as I came with a muffled scream. Master twisted my hair and dragged his tongue along my throat, not caring at all that I went over the edge without permission.
When Daddy came, I only noticed it because of the sudden warmth deep inside followed closely by his long moan and his fingers digging into my hips. Master quickly tore the blindfold off me and I was suddenly blinking up at him in surprise.
He smirked down at me. “We’re not done yet, kitten.”